torsdag 16 juni 2011

Nikki Reed "One Hundred Miles from Graceland" #Bonnaroonikki

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Once again it took ten hours and two flights to get to the south. Three of those hours were not spent flying, but rather sleeping on the airport floor in Charlotte waiting for a connecting flight. It was brutal, as was the line to get a chicken biscuit from Bojangles. But Bonnaroo awaited and I needed fuel. And let’s be honest, the redeye in coach is never fun, but paying for first class tickets is still a concept I can’t wrap my head around. My neck is pretty angry at me. We arrived around noon. The sun was directly overhead and my tan lines are proof of that. Trying to swim through the hot, thick air on a couple hours of sleep felt impossible, especially since our campsite was a 20-min walk away from the music, but we were raring to go and nothing could stop us. It was incredible. We stopped for a couple of songs at each stage, unable to commit to an entire set. Apparently it was more crowded than usual this year, and he was anxious to show me around. He somehow managed to convince me to ride the ferris wheel, despite my fear of heights. My anxiety was documented in a thousand pictures during the ride, and being the subject of those photos only added to that anxiety. I’d much rather be the one holding the camera. Anyway, the day flew by as we listened to Amos Lee and Portugal. The Man, and ate vegetarian burritos while Bobby Long serenaded us. It was more romantic than I imagined it would be in such dusty, humid conditions. We laid on our backs in the grass while Mavis Staples “took us to church”, and I pretended I was my mom, in 1976 at the Topanga music festival she always told me about. I even stuck a couple of feathers in my hair. We raced over to see The Head and the Heart, a band that I had been listening to on repeat for the last couple of weeks. Their last song made me cry. Something about that kind of passion, I so rarely see, gave me goose bumps, and he pointed them out. I felt like we were the only two people in the world amongst the 90,000 others. What a different kind of place this was. A place where people go to feel the music, and are too consumed by that to even notice any film actors or TV show singers. How refreshing it felt to see him appreciated for the artist he is, as people approached only to tell him they loved his band, having no idea he was ever on a TV show. It made me smile. I’d like to stay in that world; a world where iPhones and flip cams don’t exist, a world where people live only to dance to whatever beat they hear. 


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